Into the Fray: A Noncanon Inception Fan Fiction
by TheNordicNinja
Summary: They say it can't be done. Stabilize a fourth dream level and perform an inception. But it has to be. Or our world, reality and dreams, will be over. And it's up to Nolan Ryder, to do it.
1. Chapter 1

**Dream Level 2:**

Water burst through the windows.

It filled his vision.

It ruined everything.

**Dream Level 1:**

Nolan Ryder came spluttering to the surface of the bathtub he found himself in. He swore loudly.

"_It's too early!"_ he yelled at his companion who was standing near the edge of the shining white tub.

They were in a hotel, and by the looks of it, a quite nice one.

"We've been compromised. Kick's coming any second." Dalton Fletch, his companion, looked very grim.

Nolan swore again.

"I don't have the info yet!"

"If he would've started the kick a second later we'd all be dead up there. We're going to have a heck of a welcoming committee when we wake up."

Even though it was nice to be able to communicate with different dream levels, sometimes he wished he didn't have to deal with this crap.

"We need to wake Morstan. Can't have him stuck in level two when the kick happens."

Dalton went over and started Morstan's kick. Nolan had a headache. Everything was going wrong. It was supposed to be simple. He, Dalton and Sirius (their forger) were to go into a man named, "Silva Morstan"'s dream. He and Sirius would then bring Morstan into a second dream level (a dream within a dream) and convince him that he needs to give him the security codes for Swiss bank account. Meanwhile, in reality, his architect and chemist would be having a, "business meeting" with the now sleeping Morstan. Everything was going picture perfect until now. Apparently Morstan's security got edgy and checked on the, "meeting".

The mission was shot. Their employer, a man named, "Kuang Su", a Chinese black market dealer who needed some extra cash, was not going to be overly happy with a failed mission. But it was too late now. Nolan had to concentrate on getting him and his team safe.

Morstan was up now and was rather confused. Being woken from a dream with wires strapped to you wasn't too comforting. But it didn't matter. The kick had taken effect.

**Reality:**

Nolan's eyes shot open. His chair was on the ground and his cheek was following suit. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his Berreta. It was too late. His architect and his chemist were dead. There were two guards in the room with a few others sprawled, presumably dead, on the floor. He dropped them in a quick rage. Dalton came up behind him.

"We have to go. Morstan's bringing in backup."

Nolan looked one last time at his deceased coworkers. Then turned and followed Dalton.


	2. Chapter 2

**Reality:**

Nolan lay sprawled on a couch in a dirty apartment in New York. A bottle hung loosely from his hands. The TV flickered angrily from across the room. Another mission, failed.

He was sick of this job. He was sick of risking his neck and other people's necks for a few extra bucks. He was only twenty-seven but he was considering retirement, or at least a job switch. He couldn't take it anymore.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gleaming mechanical pocket watch. The familiar, "tick, tick, tick" comforted him. He looked at the reflective face of his elegant watch. And as usual, it was ticking backwards. It was his totem. He had it specially made to tick backwards. That way, anyone who was trying to create it would make it tick clockwise, like any other normal clock and would let Nolan know if he was in a dream or not. He rubbed it in-between his thumbs.

"Maybe it is time to stop…" Nolan thought to himself.

But then the television caught his eye.

"_Breaking news from Fox News headquarters. North Korea has been confirmed to have 12 fully operational nuclear war heads primed and ready. CIA director, "Clarke Staples" is-"_

It was at this moment that four men in dark uniforms and masks burst through the door, guns held high. On their sleeves was clearly written, "SWAT". Nolan staggered to his feet, pulled out his gun, then crashed on to the floor again. Being intoxicated had its disadvantages. His vision went black.

Lights. Bright, obnoxious, flood lights magnified immensely by the all-white room he was in. To say that Nolan had a hangover would've been an understatement. From the bump on his head and the double vision he was experiencing, he figured that he had gotten slammed by the butt of someone's gun.

A man in a suit, looking like your classic government bodyguard, opened the door and stepped inside.

"Come with me, sir."

"Oh so it's, 'sir' now is it? Trying to make up for the bump on my head I suppose."

The man remained silent. Nolan sighed and followed him.

Hallways, hallways, an elevator and more hallways. Nolan trudged on for what seemed like a good fifteen minutes in his bleached surroundings. Finally Nolan was encounter with a security check and a conference room. He sat down in a plush swivel chair. This room was quite different and it was hard to adjust to the change of lighting. This room was dim, lit up by the occasional computer monitor.

His thoughts were soon interrupted.

"Inception. What do you know about it?" This man was also in a suit, but carried himself differently. He clearly had an obnoxiously large government pay check.

"The theory that you can develop an idea in someone's mind naturally? All I know is that it's only been done twice. Supposedly. And by the same person."

The man sat down opposite him.

"What if I told you… it HAD to be done?"


End file.
